


Kiss Number Eight: Aakrishta

by a_xmasmurder



Series: The Eight Types of Kissing [8]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Cats, Cold sucks too, Cooking, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Friendship, Frustration, Kissing, Life and Such at MI6, M/M, mornings suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>8. Aakrishta – Simultaneously pressing her upper and lower lips with hands and kissing her lips without teeth-touching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Number Eight: Aakrishta

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't leave Alec out of this, sorry ;)

The morning brought with it clouds and not a bit of sunshine to be found. Q blinked and peered at his phone. Five thirty-seven. Oh five thirty-seven, if he was thinking in military time. He tossed the mobile on the duvet and flopped back down into the warmth of the pillows.

“I don’t want to go to work today. Today is bound to be a shit day. I can feel it in my hip.” He scowled at the water stain on the ceiling of his horrid little bedroom of his horrid little flat in a horrid little part of London. “I’m going to call in and say my gall bladder is exploding.” He patted the comforter, and Montgomery purred from where he lay at the foot of the bed. “Fucking weather. Don’t want to get out of bed, and I think they shut our heat off again, Monty.” The room felt like the Arctic, somewhere he’d actually been and would much rather never go back to, if he could help it. Personally delivering weapons to a station inside of the Arctic Circle, while interesting as a whole, was not so much when he had to fly. He sat up and looked at his cat. “I hate flying, Monty.”

“Mreow.”

“I really, really hate to fly. Do you know that? I think you don’t even care.”

Montgomery started to clean himself, and Q scrunched up his nose. “Ugh, can’t you do that somewhere that isn’t my bed?”

“Mr _eeee_ ow.”

“Alright, yes, I get it. It’s actually your bed, but -” A noise out in the living room had Q’s attention, full stop. “ _Shit._ ” Even the cat stopped cleaning and had his ears turned towards the door. The door that was wide open. “Double shit.” Q kept his voice down to a whisper as he tried to ascertain who the everloving fuck had decided to break into his flat. Again.

The noise happened again, and then Q had a jolt of realisation.

_Bond had stayed the night because... why did he stay the night?_

“Why did Bond stay the night?” he asked his cat. Montgomery rumbled a purr at him. “Oh, why the hell am I asking a cat?” He slid out of bed and pulled on his toweling robe before he froze half dead, then walked out onto the carpet and watched in mounting horror as James Bond tinkered in his kitchen. Montgomery walked past him and into the kitchen, purring and rubbing up against the agent’s sweatpants.

“Hello there, you creature of Hell. And hello Q.” James bent down and rubbed the cat between the ears, and Montgomery yowled at him. “No, you are not getting any eggs. Sorry, but they give you gas that could take down armies. Did you know that your cat spent all night attacking my toes?”

“Um, no.” Q blinked. “Am I dreaming, or are you actually cooking?”

“He’s cooking.”

Q yelped and nearly jumped out of his skin as Alec walked out of his bathroom. “ _Jesus CHRIST!_ Make noise when you walk - wait, why the _hell_ are you in my flat, 006?”

“Oh, Alec showed up around three. Seems his latest fling kicked him out of her flat.” James stared at his friend, who stood shirtless in the middle of the room. “Again.”

“Oi, it wasn’t my fault.”

Q felt like curling up like a pillbug. “James, a word?”

“Sure. Alec, watch this. And don’t set it on fire, please?” James walked past Alec as the other agent made his way, barefoot, into the kitchen and sat at one of the chairs. “What’s wrong?”

Q took a deep breath to calm his heart. “I’m naked under this,” he hissed under his breath.

Bond’s eyes lit up. “Oh. _Brilliant._ ”

“No, _not_ brill -” Q’s retort died on his tongue as Bond’s hands pressed lightly against his heated cheeks and stroked his skin. Rough thumbs traced his lips, pulling them against his teeth, and then Bond leaned in and kissed him. His thumbs stayed where they were at, and his fingers caged Q’s ears, playing with his hair and the cartilage of his ears. Q hummed into the kiss, wanting to lick at the agent’s lips and press inwards, but Bond didn’t let him. He just stayed as he was, his warmth radiating through the robe and into Q’s core, stirring more than just physical feelings inside him. He’d wanted to crawl inside Bond and become one with him a few weeks ago - now, though, he felt as if Bond was the one seeping into him, filling the bits of himself that he didn’t know were empty. He leaned into the man and sighed happily, forgetting that he was essentially naked until Alec shouted about breakfast and where exactly Q kept his beer.

 


End file.
